Personal Demons
by TrancyBaby
Summary: Arthur is the average senior in high school, planning his future as a writer. However, the members of the afterlife have some other plans for him. One demon in particular, Alfred F. Jones has been assigned to Arthur until he commits suicide. Like he'd ever do that. WARNING: suicide, violence, demons, devils, gore, and sex. USxUK


**A/N:**** Loosely based off of the animated short Welcome to Hell. Just the idea of the story though, no Welcome to Hell characters will appear in this fanfiction. I do not own either Hetalia or Welcome to Hell. Enjoy.**

* * *

Arthur Kirkland sat alone at his desk in his bedroom. This was not any new occurrence, in fact, Arthur spent most of his afternoons alone in his room pondering his day, his homework, his life. But today, his gaze fell on an empty notebook. Crisp white pages, blank and clean and just waiting for him. It lifted his heart every time he spotted a clean piece of paper. He was a writer, so it made sense. Though, he wasn't one entirely yet. As a senior in high school, he had aspirations, dreams, things he wanted to do. Like writing. A career doing the thing he loved most. However today he couldn't focus. Ideas flIckered across his brain in a teasing dance as he tried desperately to reach out and take hold of at least one. The inspiration to write _something _pumped through him like adrenaline, but anything that flowed from his pen was promptly tossed into the waste bin. It's not that what he wrote was bad, it just couldnt convey this feeling inside of him the right way. He wanted others to feel inspired, to float on the high of he was on, but no matter how hard he tried, he just couldnt do it.

With a sigh, he ran a hand through his short, bottle blonde hair and leaned back in his chair. Maybe a walk would help him. His mother always told him that these things took time, no matter how impatient he was to get it on paper. Standing and tossing on a light grey hoodie and snatching up his iPod, he headed downstairs and out the door.

Shoes slapped against concrete as Arthur positioned his headphones over his ears, letting soothing notes calm the frustration he was feeling. He wanted to be like this, he thought as he listened. Just like the musicians he so admired; an artist lost in his own creativity. What he would give to be like them. Not for the fame our fortune, but the _feeling_ of being something. Of being some_one_.

He found himself standing on The Bridge. Referred to as The Bridge by everyone in town, simply because it was the only bridge. Underneath, water roiled over one of the few shallow spots in the river on its way the ocean. Jagged rocks reached up from the ground, promising nasty results for anyone who decided to go for a swim. Speeding cars blurred behind him as he stood on the footpath, leaning on the railing as he gazed down at the water. In the late afternoon light the river danced over the sinister rocks, beckoning to the strangers on the banks and atop the bridge to come and play amid the promise of death. Wind rustled around him, catching in his clothes and in his hair as he closed his eyes, feeling as if the air had wrapped him in a hug. This feeling of solitude even when surrounded by the town was something he could never explain to anyone. Despite the cars behind him, no people walked over the bridge. All was silent but the music in his ears and he felt, for once, blissful in loneliness.

Except he wasn't alone anymore. Though he hadn't seen him walk up, there was now another boy beside Arthur, leaning his back against the railing and gazing up at the sky. His hair also moved with the breeze, and while Arthur had compared it to a hug it looked as if the wind could take up this boy and carry him with it. Sandy hair that fell over his ears accented a sculpted jaw on his peaceful face. Skin that looked both sunkissed and deathly pale at the same time, and a large nose adorned with a pair of circular glasses that glinted in the sun, hiding his eyes. Arthur scanned him up and down, taking into account the ragged, dark leather jacket that hung over his broad shoulders, the dark jeans that were pulled up to his waist and fastened with a belt. And while his face looked like any eighteen year old boy he had an air about him that implied he'd seen more, done more, experienced things Arthur could never dream of.

The young man's face turned slowly in Arthur's direction, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small smile of greeting. Arthur looked back to the water below, refusing to admit to himself or anyone else that he'd been staring. The presence of this person ate slowly at the peace Arthur had found until he gave up on finding it again and pushed himself off the railing to walk back home.

It wasn't until he was halfway to his house that he noticed he was being followed. As he glanced over his shoulder, he saw the boy who had so suddenly appeared at the bridge was now following him on his walk home. The first thing he thought, was that he was going to be killed, or raped. Or worse, both. Terror and adrenaline ran from his brain and leaked into every other part of his body, trickling down his veins and making him pick up his pace. But the boy never once made an effort to touch him, or even talk to him. The stranger simply followed Arthur all the way home, staying perfectly still as he fumbled with his key. With one last, very confused, glance at this stranger, Arthur closed and locked the front door. He proceeded from there to lock every door and every window in the house, not wanting to take any chances.

* * *

After a rather restless night of tossing and turning, Arthur Kirkland once again stepped out of his home, bag slung over his shoulder to catch the bus to school. He paused, however, upon seeing the blonde haired boy from the bridge the day before, leaning against the wall beside the door. Arthur stared, not sure what to do about strangers waiting outside his house all night before their eyes met. Blue eyes he hadn't seen until now meet with his. A blue so bright and clear they couldn't possibly be normal. Blue eyes that seemed to pull him in, make him feel as if he had cotton in his ears and his tongue was twice its size. Blue eyes that made his vision blur and his head spin.

Arthur looked away, nearly having to gasp for breath. He shook his head, telling himself it was nothing before walking down the road to the bus stop, Mr. Blue Eyes falling into step behind him.

It continued like that for the rest of the day. The stranger in the large jacket sat beside him on the bus, and in the ever present empty seat beside him in all of his classes at school. He sat across from Arthur at lunch, his bright shiny eyes boring into him as he ate until finally Arthur was back home, standing on his porch. Arthur turned quickly, looking just over the boy's shoulder so he wouldn't have to meet those eyes.

"What do you want?" He asked, fairly exasperated. The stranger flashed a wide, perfect smile at Arthur, his hands deep in the pockets of his bomber jacket.

"I'm a demon, and I'm here to haunt you."


End file.
